A White Rose from January: IV

by Antonio Guerrero

Behind a faraway star,
Above your horizon,
I will bring you my tomorrow
With the dew of the forest

Its brightness will be of gold,
Its beauty of ivory;
Decorous and full of light,
One should walk toward the future.

Long has to be the road
With a tenacious effort,
But beautiful, its destination,
Building the peace.

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